


Bee Sting

by Calacious



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Gen, extended drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a challenge on livejournal. Michael Weston contemplates life and bravery in the face of a death he never anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bee Sting

**Author's Note:**

> Not a death fic. Mild swearing.

Michael struggled to draw in a much needed breath of air. His lungs seared with pain, black spots dotted his vision as he failed to breathe, his lungs seizing with the lack of oxygen intake. He was confused and in an excruciating amount of pain.

What the hell happened? He wondered even as he gasped for air. Man, I hope I don’t look like some damn goldfish gulping at air, flopping around on dry ground. The image associated with that thought begged laughter which forced air into his oxygen-deprived lungs, even as he expelled a puff of air. He wheezed as a lungful of air made its way past his constricted trachea, making him sound like some deflating balloon.

Lips, blue like blood devoid of oxygen, moved soundlessly as Michael fought to breathe. Fiona’s worried face hovered over his and he could tell she was speaking, but he couldn’t hear her words. Should probably be worried about that. He thought and mentally shrugged as he couldn’t quite bring himself to worry about something as inconsequential as hearing when it was enough to simply hang onto life, drawing in a single gasping breath of air between bouts of non-breathing.

Who was it that said, “Sometimes even to live is an act of courage”? He rolled the words around in his mind as he kept up the difficult task of breathing. The name associated with the quote remained completely out of his reach, teasing him. Fuck, whoever said it was a fucking genius. He mused. Right now, simply breathing was taking up an insurmountable amount of his energy.

Was it courageous? He didn’t know, but one thing was certain – watching Fiona’s eyes widen in terror, her lips move rapidly and soundlessly, tears roll down her cheeks, and not being able to do a damn thing about it other than fight to breathe, was taking a toll on him. He was a man of action. Being waylaid by something as ridiculous as an allergic reaction to a bee sting was not something he’d counted on in all of his years as a spy. Getting shot and killed by an expert marksman, yeah, he’d accounted for that, but a bee? Hell no, he hadn’t planned for that.

As it became harder to breathe and darkness encroached upon his vision, Michael focused on two words from the quote stuck in his mind, “…to live…” ...to live…to live…to live… Was the mantra that ushered him into unconsciousness as Fiona called to the arriving paramedics.


End file.
